Magic of Love
by Dancing With Lightning
Summary: “There’s a world war happening that the world doesn’t know about,” Harry said quietly. “I’d love to be able to tell them all about this—tell them to run. HD
1. Chapter 1

**Magic of Love**

**--Dancing With Lightning**

**A/N:** Heyyy! I'm getting back on the horse and actually starting to write again! I haven't written for a while, basically, because I got some really nasty comments about a school story I had to write, and I haven't been confident enough to write again. So lots of praise (and reviewing) would be great! Haha, I knew I'd be able to fit in that 'reviewing'. Haha! No, seriously, I'm not kidding about the comments thing, though. So, yeah. I'm really a little nervous about writing again. Wish me luck! crosses fingers

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, Warner Bros or any other thing associated with Harry Potter or J.K Rowling. The name of story is also taken from a song, called the Magic of Love. Duh.

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**Chapter 1**

Hermione sat in her room, looking wistfully out of the window at the clouds forming on the horizon. She'd been locked in her room for the last week, and she had a small feeling that her parents weren't going to let her out.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away impatiently. Last week, before Ron, Harry and her left for Godric's Hollow like they'd planned, she told them she wanted to crop by her house to tell her parents what was happening and what she planned to do.

She never thought they'd react like they did.

She'd never seen her father yell, but he did, shoving Harry and Ron out of the front door. She'd never,_ ever_ seen her mother cry as her husband grabbed their daughter roughly and pulled her p the stairs. Hermione had never seen her dad so mad before. He'd never hit her before, either.

It wasn't that her parents were bad people: they were just very protective of their daughter. So protective, in fact, that when Hermione tried to go back down the stairs and follow Harry and Ron, her father slapped her and slung her to the ground.

Another tear slipped down her cheek as she touched the bruises on her arms and side. All she wanted to do now was leave, and every time she tried, her father would hit her again.

She could see it was hurting him as well; he didn't like hitting his daughter. But she could tell that he thought it was the only way to keep her inside.

She couldn't Apparate either, for some reason. She'd heard a theory that if the wizard or witch was mentally strained or really upset, they couldn't.

So Hermione was stuck in her room, watching the sun slowly set and hearing the noise of her parents making dinner downstairs.

She didn't even notice the doorbell ring until her mother poked her head in the door.

"Hermione, dear. There's a boy here to see you, and your father he's not from Hogwarts, so he said he could come up."

Hermione just stared out of the window, ignoring her mother. She jumped when a soft hand touched her shoulder, and she turned.

The teenage boy in front of her was tall, with ocean blue eyes and golden blonde hair. He smiled slightly. "Hey, 'Mione."

She stared. "…Connor?"

He smiled, sitting next to her on the window seat. "It's me."

"God!" She leaned over and hugged him tightly. "What are you doing here!"

"Well, I had a feeling my best friend was in trouble. We were born at the same time, on the same day, remember? I have a connection to you. Besides, it helps that our mothers are friends, and we went to the same school for years."

She smiled. "I missed you, Connor."

"Yes, well, we haven't seen each other for a while. I thought we should catch up. Did you know," he said, smiling at her, "we haven't seen each other for… um, three years."

"We kept up with email, though," she reminded him, "and _you_ were in Australia one summer!"

"And you in France another," he smiled. "I can remember things. But, I wanted to talk to you. First of all, why are you up here on such a lovely summer's day—well, evening, I suppose."

It was a joke, but Hermione didn't smile.

"…'Mione?"

"Dad won't let me go anywhere, and when I try, he just puts me back up here."

Connor looked outraged. "_Why_?"

"Because I want to go somewhere where I might get killed."

"Nice to be general, Hermione. Wanna tell me more so I can help?"

She looked at him with tortured eyes. "I can't," she whispered.

"Right, then." He stood, pacing the room. "Well, it seems important to you, life and death important, apparently—are you sure you're not over exaggerating? No? Okay, well because it's that important, I'm going to get you out of here. Pack a bag."

She stood, throwing a few clothes into a suitcase and throwing it out of a window. A quiet thump was heard as it landed on a garden bed. She pulled on a coat that went to her mid-thigh in length. When Connor wasn't looking, she took her wand from under her pillow and stowed it in the back of her jeans. She nodded at him.

"Let's go."

He smiled, took her hand, and pulled her down the stairs, poking his head through the kitchen door.

"Mrs Granger? Hermione fell asleep while I was in there. Mm-hm. Yes, I know she's upset, but I'll come visit her tomorrow. Sure, sure. Of course I'll bring her some books. I'll see you tomorrow, then. Bye, Mr Granger!"

He pulled his head out of the door and pulled Hermione silently out of the front door. "Go get your suitcase," he whispered as soon as the door was closed.

"I have to go past the kitchen window!" she whispered frantically back.

"Go around the whole other way, then. But be fast. You and I know your mother."

She nodded, and took off towards the left of the house, returning a few minutes later with her suitcase.

"Here. Give me the suitcase, it's not heavy." Hermione, panting, passed Connor the suitcase, and they both jogged silently into the street.

Half and hour later, Hermione began to laugh hysterically, slowing down when they reached a park. "It was so easy," she giggled, and Connor smiled. "I can't believe that we just got away like that…" and suddenly she was sobbing, leaning into her friend for support.

"Shh. It's okay. Let's not stop. Where's the place you want to go?"

"Connor, shut up for a moment." She pulled away, biting her lip. Her eyes lit on a house across the park, and she smiled. "Wait here. I'll be back in few minutes. Make sure you can't be seen from the road."

"If they've realised you're gone, they'll be looking for you," he nodded. "Fine. Go. But be _quick_, for God's sake."

She smiled and ran, leaving Connor in the darkness of the park.

She knocked on the door of the house, smiling at the two owls out the front of the house clutching letters.

A young woman opened the door, her shocking bubblegum pink hair bright in the lights from inside. Hermione gasped. "Tonks! I didn't know you lived here!"

She smiled. "Wotcher, Hermione. What can I do for you?"

"I need to borrow an owl. I have to write to Rufus Scrimegour."

She smiled. "Just come talk to him. Remus and I are chatting to him now."

Hermione followed Tonks into the house and into the living room, where the lionly Minister sat. "Minister," she started. "I need your approval. There is a muggle trying to help me escape and find what Harry, Ron and I are. I can't and won't tell you what it is, but we're going to Godric's Hollow, and he's not stupid. He'll get suspicious—"

"You may tell him everything, Miss Granger, with my regards."

She stopped, surprised. "Uh… thankyou, sir."

Fleeing from the house before he changed his mind, she met Connor in the park.

"Don't ask questions yet," she told him, clutching a piece of parchment from the Minister approving the fact that he knew. It had followed her from the house. He squinted at it.

"What-"

"_No questions._ Be quiet and follow me."

She walked to the road, and pulled out her wand, lightning the tip with a single thought. She stuck it out into the road.

"What are you doing? Are you _trying_ to let your parents catch us?"

"They won't. And I said, no questions."

Connor yelled as a large, purple bus screeched to a stop in front of them. Hermione stepped onto the bud, motioning for Connor to do the same.

"The Leaky Cauldron. Now."

"Miss Granger," the bus driver nodded politely. "I expect this is important business for Mr Potter?"

She nodded. "Very important. Quickly, if you please."

Hermione stood straight as Connor fell when the bus took off at an amazing speed.

"This speed is illegal!" he cried.

"I know." Hermione nodded. "Well, it's illegal where you're from, and where I used to be. Things are different not—_don't_ ask. I'll tell you when the time is right."

"That a muggle, then?" the bus driver asked.

Hermione nodded. "I have permission from the Minister himself."

"I'm not to ask questions, Miss."

"What's a muggle?" Connor asked, but shut up when Hermione looked at him pointedly. "Right. No questions."

The bus stopped, and Hermione fell over. "What's going on?" she asked, scrambling to her feet.

"I don't want to alarm, Miss Granger, but there's Death Eaters out there."

"Time to go," Hermione gripped Connor's arm and hauled him to his feet, running up the stairs of the bus.

"Who are they?" Connor asked.

"They're not nice people, to put it mildly," Hermione murmured, nodding to an old witch sitting in a chair. She smiled.

"You were never here, dearie."

"Thankyou, ma'am." She pulled open the window of the bus and smiled at Connor. "Here we go."

Jumping out, a short, plump figure caught her. "Wouldn't want you to land and break your pretty little ankles," he murmured.

"Connor!" she called. "Stay up there!"

"Are you mad?" Her friend jumped and landed on top of the middle-aged man.

"Who is he?" he asked as Hermione bent over the gasping man.

"Wormtail. Oh, god. It's Peter Pettigrew. Connor, we have to run."

"Um, there's someone behind you."

"Hello, Miss Granger."


	2. Chapter 2

**Magic of Love**

**--Dancing With Lightning**

**A/N:** Hiya! How'd you like the first chapter? I didn't. Haha, but that's okay! If you liked it, that's all right.

I'd like to say thankyou to Reem, for reviewing. My first reviewer! Cookies and the extra dough bits for you! Thanks for your review!

Continue with your reading of the story!

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**Chapter 2**

"I believe you're heading the wrong way. Godric's Hollow is that way."

Hermione turned, and yelled in annoyance. "_Harry_!" she hugged the taller boy tightly, and he smiled at Connor over her shoulder.

"Hi, there."

Connor smiled shyly. "Hi."

Hermione pulled away. "We have to go."

"Why?" Harry looked confused.

She pointed to the front of the bus. "Death Eaters, plus," she pointed down, "Wormtail, equals…"

His eyes widened. "Time to go."

Connor frowned. "What—?"

"No questions, she hissed, grabbing Harry's arm. She held firmly onto Connor with her free hand. "Don't let me go."

There was darkness, and then suddenly, light, and Connor was gasping for air. "What happened?" he asked, gasping and looking around the room.

"Boyfriend, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Gay, Harry."

"Hey! I'm not—oh. He's gay?"

"Yes. Now, where are we?"

"The Burrow. We're staying here. We didn't want to go to Godric's Hollow without you. Besides, we thought you'd get out eventually. Are you okay?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm fine. Okay, Connor. Ask away."

"What the hell is all of this, Hermione? What was that bus, where did the bus come from, anyway? How does everyone know who you are, who is 'Mr Potter', what are Death Eaters, who is Wormtail, why does it make you so nervous, and who the hell is the Minister!"

"Are you done?" Harry wanted to know.

Hermione smiled. "I'm going upstairs. Harry, can you explain everything to Connor?"

Harry nodded. "Why not? It all involves me, anyway. _I'm_ Mr Potter, by the way. Now… what has Hermione told you? Nothing? God, this is going to take a while. You may want to sit down…"

Hermione walked into the kitchen, to be engulfed in a cloud of steam from a nearby pot. She was pulled out by two pairs of gangly, freckly arms.

"Fred? George? What are you doing here?"

"Visiting our dear, poor family," Fred said with a smile. "Hiya, Hermione. How are you?"

"She's probably tired," George said. "She should get rest."

"I want hear about her adventures with that strapping muggle boy,"

"What muggle boy?" Ginny's interested face appeared in between her brothers.

Hermione waved her hand. "No one. Well, his name is Connor, but there's nothing going on between us."

"Damn." Ginny looked disappointed. "It would have been great if there was." She waggled her eyebrows, and Hermione giggled when she heard a loud _'what_' from the living room.

"He's finding out about everything," she smiled.

"About what?" Ron poked his head around Fred and George. "Hey, Hermione."

"Hello. It's just Connor, don't worry."

"Who is Connor?" Mrs Weasley asked, squeezing past her children to get into the kitchen.

"The boy that's with me, that's Connor."

"Oh, the handsome young man in the living room. Hermione, he's a handsome boy!"

"He's gay, Mrs Weasley," she smiled.

"Oh, that's good," Mrs Weasley said, giving a meaningful look at Ron. He turned red.

Hermione smirked and walked back into the living room, where Connor was sitting with his head between his knees. Harry was tentatively patting his back.

"I think I told him too fast," he said with a smile.

Hermione laughed, bending down next to Connor.

"You okay?"

"You…" he straightened, his eyes wide. Suddenly, his mouth broke into a smile. "You're a witch, Hermione! You're a real, live witch."

She smiled back and touched his shoulder. "I really, really am. Has Harry told you about Voldemort yet?"

"Very quickly," he said, looking up at Harry. "I think I understand it, though. Harry said that I'd understand more as I went along."

Harry nodded. "I figured that telling him everything would take forever, seeing as I don't know everything myself."

Connor was nodding, apparently deep in thought. "So… you explained Horcruxes to me. Do you know any of Voldemort's Horcruxes? I mean, you said they can be destroyed, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Dumbledore, you remember how I told you about Dumbledore?" Connor nodded, and Harry continued. "Right then, Dumbledore had a theory that Voldemort had seven Horcruxes."

"Why seven?" Connor wanted to know.

"The number in itself has magical properties," I explained. Connor smiled slightly at me.

"So yeah, and the theories on what they are so far have been really true."

"Well? What are they?"

"Harry," I stepped forward, "don't go into the whole story of them. Just tell him what they are."

"Well, Voldemort, being a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin—remember him? Yeah, well, he had a ring of Salazar's. That was one. Dumbledore destroyed it. There was an… um… oh, a diary that belonged to him as a teenager, that I destroyed in second year. We didn't even realise it was a Horcrux then. There…" he swallowed hard. "There's a locket. We… we don't know…" he sat down, looking lost for words. Hermione stepped in.

"Harry and Professor Dumbledore went looking for it and the end of last year, and they got it. But… it was a fake. And to get it, the Professor had to drink a potion that made him extremely weak. Harry believes that the locket finding was partly to blame in Dumbledore's death."

Connor nodded. "I understand. We can talk about the rest later."

Harry smiled slightly at Connor. "Thanks. You're taking this all pretty well."

"Well," Connor leaned back in the chair, "I'm not stupid, and I'm certainly not a person that forgets my friends. I had some sort of suspicion about what Hermione had been up to in the last six years, and I've had my suspicions confirmed. I didn't, however, think that it would be something this big."

"There's a world war happening that the world doesn't know about," Harry said quietly. "I'd love to be able to tell them all about this—tell them to run. But we know that this has to stay quiet. We know that if we're going to stop Voldemort, we have to do it subtly."

"Wizards and witches have been around for thousands of years, Harry," Hermione smiled, "and somehow I don't believe that you can destroy the secret in your lifetime."

"You'd be surprised." Harry laughed shortly, bitterly. "You'd be surprised, Hermione. The whole wizarding world found out about me in one night,_ one night_. But… did you know that… if it hadn't have been me, it would have been someone else, and they may have died a long time ago."

Hermione knelt next to him, feeling her friend shaking. "I know, Harry. But it _was_ you, and guess what? You haven't died, and _I won't let you_. I'll give my life and the life of everyone around me before I'd surrender you."

"That might just happen." Ron was standing in the doorway. "Luna just rocked up on the doorstep with, guess who?"

"Who?" Harry stood, watching his friend's face. Ron, who recently always looked frustrated, looked _really_ annoyed. "Who is it, Ron?"

"Draco Malfoy. And guess what, also?"

"_What_?"

"He's mental. And when I say mental, I mean actually mental."

"As in, he's insane?" Hermione whispered.

"If the shoe fits."  
Harry brushed past Ron and into the kitchen, where Luna was standing next to a chair bearing Malfoy, whose upper half was sprawled across the table. His eyes were wide open, and he stared, unseeing. Harry bent down in front of him.

"Is he okay?"

"Look at his arm." Hermione's voice was dead. Where the Dark Mark usually lay, there was only a large, sluggishly bleeding gash.

"What happened!" Connor stepped forward. But the voice who answered next was not one they expected.

"I tried to cut it out." Draco's voice was void of all emotion—he just stared blankly.

"Oh, god." Ginny stepped back, gripping Harry's arm for support. "What has Voldemort done to him?"

"Tortured him into insanity, it looks like." Mrs Weasley stepped forward. "I've looked into his mind. There's nothing there. Well, not really, anyway."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"His mind is blank, but in one corner, there's something tucked away. There's something there, and I couldn't touch it."

Tonks breezed in through the kitchen door, and Harry smirked as Connor stared at her bubblegum pink hair. She smiled at him. "This the muggle, then? Wotcher. So, Mr Malfoy is indisposed, is he? Damn. And here I thought he could help."

Malfoy sat straight, suddenly, looking at Tonks' pink hair. He burst into giggles. "Your hair is funny!" he laughed.

A tear slid down Hermione's cheek, and Connor walked over to her. "I thought you don't like this guy."

"I don't. But no-one deserves this."

Tonks nodded sympathetically. "I've called a witch to help. You've never met her before, because she's been living in America for the past three years. She's only seventeen, like you guys. She's the most powerful witch anyone has ever met."

"Voldemort? Dumbledore?" Harry looked confused. "They're the most powerful."

"No. Not when she is part Dumbledore. She's his grandchild, Harry. Her name is Diana."

"Diana Dumbledore?" Ron snickered.

"No," Tonks pulled a face at him. "She goes by Allard. Diana Allard. That way, Voldemort can never find her. Not like he did her older sister, Rose."

"What happened to her?"

"No-one knows. She hasn't been seen since before your parents died. If she was alive… she'd be… twenty-four by now."

Harry nodded. "When is she getting here?"

"Tomorrow morning."

Hermione looked at Malfoy. "Where is he staying?"

"Right here," Mrs Weasley said at once. "He's not going anywhere. As far as I'm concerned, he could have killed Dumbledore, but he didn't. That makes him a good enough sort to me."

Hermione nodded. "Do you want help taking him upstairs?"

"No, dear. Mr Weasley can help me. You and Connor need to get some rest. Luna, you'll be sleeping in with Ginny, Hermione, Harry and Connor tonight."

"All of us in one room?" Hermione was shocked.

"We've cast enlarging spells on the rooms. You'll have more than enough room."

They all filed upstairs, Harry and Connor talking animatedly.

Reaching the room, Luna opened the door and walked inside. "What a nice room."

"Indeed." Hermione looked around the room happily. Their beds fit neatly across the room. "What a nice room indeed."

She picked the bed in between Harry and Connor and went to Mrs Weasley, who was coming back down the stairs with Mr Weasley.

"Mrs Weasley… my bag. My—my clothes…"

"Not to worry, dear. Fred has just returned with the rest of your wardrobe."

Fred walked up the stairs, holding a large suitcase. "Here you are, Hermione. Just… be careful when you open it. The clothes'll… well, they'll go everywhere."

Hermione smiled. "Thankyou, Fred."

Going to a bathroom, she changed into her nightgown and walked back into the room, where they were all huddled on Hermione's bed. Luna was sitting up the front, and for once she looked alert.

"So tell us, Luna. You said before that you knew about this Diana." Ginny sat forward eagerly. "What are the stories?"

"Well, there are stories of what Diana has done in the past. They say that her spirit is many thousands of years old, and is residing in the body of a young girl. They say she's immortal, and can only be killed when she wishes it, but her spirit still roams free. There have been stories, many stories. They say she was Morgan le Fay, but others claim she was the Lady of the Lake."

"Arthur legends…" Connor breathed. "Were they true, then?"

"Some," Hermione admitted. "There was a real Merlin."

"Really!" Connor looked excited. "That's incredible."

"And Dragons," Harry put in, "Real. Werewolves, Vampires, real."

"Can Luna finish the story?" Ginny asked impatiently. Hermione nodded.

"All right. We'll be quiet now."

"Diana Allard is the most powerful witch that has ever roamed these lands. But, they say her current form restricts her somehow, and she is unable to perform the advanced magicks she always used to be able to perform."

"So you're saying that she's really not that powerful."

"She is. When she must be. They say that when the time is right, and when she is truly needed, she will be free of her mortal skin, and save the earth once more."

Hermione nodded. "That sounds quite…"

"Cool," Ginny finished, "but seriously, her proper name couldn't be Diana, could it?"

"Hm," Hermione mused, "I suppose it would be something timeless, like Guinevere, or Morgan le Fay, or perhaps even Galadriel…"

"That's Lord of the Rings," Connor rolled his eyes. "Her name wouldn't be something from _Lord of the Rings_."

"It was just an _example_…"

Harry smiled as the two friends started to bicker. "I'm going to bed," he announced, and looked at Hermione and Connor. "Get some rest. I'm serious. Tomorrow's going to be a big day."

Hermione nodded, and as everyone climbed off her bed, she slid under the covers, sighing contentedly when her head touched the pillow. She didn't even remember hearing Harry say good night.

Hermione woke up with a start sometime later, and she groped in the darkness for her watch and wand. "_Lumos_!" she whispered, lighting the tip and looking at her watch. It was two o'clock in the morning, and Hermione began to wonder what on earth had woken her up.

She heard another small thump from upstairs, and a whimper. Silently, she climbed out of bed, creeping up the stairs, to a door she didn't remember being there before. Taking a deep breath, she walked into a room that was empty, save a bed and a shaking figure in one corner.

"Malfoy? Are you all right?"

"They… they touched me. Their hands were everywhere. Their cold… cold blue hands…"

Hermione didn't make a sound, but listened to everything Malfoy said.

"They took it away from me. The speck. The bright light. They took it."

"What did they take?" Hermione took a step forward.

"They took my light. The light that _I_ needed. They were selfish. Wanted it for their own. But I said no. I said I wanted the speck back."

"What was the speck?" Hermione murmured, but Malfoy was continuing, unaware of Hermione's question.

"They grabbed me. Put me in a dark container. I couldn't see, couldn't hear… they were touching me with their cold, blue hands…"

And he ceased to make sense, murmuring over and over, 'cold, blue hands… cold blue hands…'

Hermione backed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

She trotted downstairs, and got back into bed. She didn't fall asleep again.


End file.
